Second Chance
by Fumblepaws
Summary: WHAHAHA I dug out a story I wrote as a teen, I am evil.... Christine's grandaughter gets an odd gift...


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Author's…. death?: -=Dies=-…. For that is the only excuse I can think of for posting this….. my first fanfiction (LIE LIE LIE (also a burned Sailor moon romance from around the age of 14……)) But I found this and I am feeling rather beyond horrible maiming embaressment that might come from it. I don't know why…. I just always felt Christina couldn't have been that much of a twit. Erik got such a hard break…. Yes so I wrote this in my days of youth. 

Disclaimer: I don't own Erik…. If I did… -=grins naughtily=- He wouldn't…. I would…. DAMN NO N17!!!!!! -=mopes=-

Second Chance

Catalina Daaé stood a little back from the busy corner playing her violin watching the people hurry past. She sighed … … _not much profit today._

Winter had come and gone with nothing but the usual small problems. Jason had broken his arm when trying to skid down an icy rail. A new boy Cameron had dropped an amp on his foot. A few of the younger children had just caught the last nasty flu of the season and were going to have to stay in bed for weeks. They had all gone a little nuts cooped up. Nothing new really. Spring would be more eventful. They could all get out and busk. Petty cash was low, no one liked to be out playing when it was likely your fingers could freeze off. Catalina spent a moment longing for her home in the milder winters of Victoria, Canada. She sighed deeply as homesickness settled around her. The French lower class scurried past her. P_robably trying to get home for dinner. _She thought.

She ran her bow across the strings one last time before laying her instrument aside. She scooped coins from her case into her bag, packing up. Standing again she stretched her legs. She winced as cold muscles pulled. Rubbing them, she promised herself a hot bath. She looked at her watch. 

"Scheiße" she muttered as she grabbed her bags already taking off at a fast jog. She had supposed to be making dinner by now. The sun dipped in the sky while she hurried home. 

She paused outside the Opera house and smiled softly. Now she remembered why she left her old home. It seemed it had been almost forever since the gum chewing courier had given her the brown package from an obscure foreign bank. Her 16 birthday wasn't for 3 months, so what was it? She remembered there had been a faint scent of lost summer's roses as she opened the aged paper package. Inside there was a neat envelope, a large old book bound in leather and a Persian music box with a monkey playing the cymbals. She recognized the book instantly from her childhood. The Music box had been a itam passed down the family line.It had been her much loved great-grandmothers diary. The old dear had written in it almost everyday of her life. No one knew exactly HOW long that was but it did seem she lived beyond the usual years. She opened the envelope first; hoping it would explain this turn of events.

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Dear Catling, 

No doubt you surprised to hear from me. Especially since by the time you get this I will probably be in my final resting-place with your dear parents, may they rest in peace. I have been given a chance to redeem myself for all the pain I have caused in my life. I give you three gifts. The first is the deed to half of the Paris Opera Populaire and a map of its hidden passageways. Be wary of the house on the lake it will be old and a little run down by now. Fix it up? Your percent of the proceeds are being kept in a bank in Paris. The account card and bank records are in my diary. Read it. You asked once as a child if I was THE Christine Daaé and I never answered. It is true. I am she. This is proof and my redemption. Second, I learned a little of the lost powers in my years…I will use them here. You can find this gift in Paris in a year, that should give you time to find your place there and time for the powers to gather. Third, this gift I hope you will find in your heart I merely offer the opportunity…It is something I should have recognized a long time ago. Fair thee well child, I hope you love your gifts more than I was able too. 

Sincerely,

_Christina Daaé_

Catalina stared at the letter for a long time after she finished reading trying to decide whether to follow her young dreams or stay with her normal little job and her sensible life. People were always commenting how young she was to be living by herself. She had graduated high school early and worked for a year in people still called her the kid. She hated that. Maybe she would be free to be herself in Paris?

It took three months to tie up all her loose ends in Canada. She gave notice on her small apartment and brushed up on her French which no matter what was determined not to stick. She bid fair thee well to her few friends and family. When she found out just how much money was in the account in Paris she had some of it transferred out to her bank, after she got her heart started again. She booked a cruise over to Paris then tried to avoid watching Titanic. 

She spent tens of thousands on the best violin, her most loved insterment of choice, she could find; an Amati Violin with its sweet, gentle tone. She smiled and wondered if long ago her great-Grandmama knew hat she had been getting into when she offered to pay for little Catling's music lessons. Catalina was a natural. She had the ear for pitch and memorization. She had picked up the guitar in a month. Others followed at their own pace but her teachers were all amazed with their little student. Following another of her loves she bought the best laptop she could find. Then she got down to the serious stuff. Clothing for all occasions. Many malls and stores remember the young heiress with a joyful smile as she bought her treasures. Finally she had to pack it all up and have it shipped over to a storage locker in Paris. 

The cruise was pleasant but Catalina felt like she was waiting on the edge of her seat for something. Arriving in Paris she realized just how bad her French was. It had taken her three days to find her way to the Opera house. Then five more to convince the manager that she was whom the papers said she was. 

Hard to believe the easiest part of all this was finding her way down to the house on the lake. She was a little puzzled about the release catch on the dressing room mirror but after a minute of fiddling with it, it slid open to the stares of the diva, ballet rats and stagehands. Catalina's heart beat quickly as she followed the rout her great grandmother had went so many years ago. Dark stairs led down for about fifty feet before leveling out in a wide stone hallway. Catalina held up her oil lamp and walked slowly down it minding her step. Her eyes widened as she stepped into a cave so huge the light of her lamp only lit up a small half circle around the tunnel entrance. She noticed a groove in the wall with thick black liquid flowing in it. She followed it for a little as it divided and stretched away from her. She sniffed the liquid and winced. _Oil_, she thought. Catalina lit a twig from her lamp and tossed it into the opening. She stepped back at the flames raced away from her and climbed the walls. A lacework of light covered the dome ceiling. 

"Ooh aaahhh" She commented. She took in the view with eager eyes. It was huge, a great glittering, fire lit lake. On the far side hardly more then a shadow in the darkness was the front of a large house, almost a mansion built into a wall of stone. It reminded her of Notre Dame it but wild where it melded into the cavern. As the fire reached it and it became laced with fire she caught her breath. It's so beautiful. Did the Phantom design this? A thin wooden walkway wound around the left side of the lake. Catalina gazed around as she walked along it hopping over the few missing boards. She saw through the holes there was a faint current and chunks of ice floated past. Catalina shivered.

She had spent the first day just wondering through the house marveling at all the music in the design and reading the diary. There were three music rooms one that had all kinds of the best string instruments she had ever seen, another was filled with a orchestra worth of wind and brass instruments there even was a huge traditional set of drums. The last had a grand piano and she ached to sing there. It was right across from the master bedroom so she took that room as her own. She spent the following months fixing up the mansion and its contents. She found it was fully and tastefully furnished but horribly neglected. She hired a herd of cleaners and workers to sweep through cleaning it up, fixing it up and also using up the last of the account savings. 

It was a few months after when she had needed some spare cash that Catalina found her true calling. She had gone out and busked as she used to when her parents were still around and she needed summer cash. No opera house would higher a child i.e. a Canadian under 35 and not famous. Any ways she gained a nice income busking but then she had been trained since she could hold her little violin without dropping it and she would like to think she was quite good with it. A little down the street a little girl was playing an old beat up flute. She could see from where she was standing it was dents that were souring the sound not the player. That was Jenny, the first of many fledglings Catalina took in. The house on the lake had many huge rooms, now many of them were full for laughter. Not just the original house beds, She had bought dozens of cots and fold out beds when the next check came from the Opera house. There were now five full rooms for the girls sleeping quarters and roughly that for the boys. Catalina loved her new role. She fed them, supplied simple clothing, sheltered them, mothered, loved and taught them. They called her Mother Catling, even thought some of them were a years older than her. At the ripe old age of almost 18 Catalina was a mother to 46. She took in all the young buskers who couldn't go to the hostels or shelters in fear of being shipped off to a horrid orphanage or disturbing foster homes. Sometimes just the street people who had a love of music but no teacher. She had three simple rules no drinking/drugs, be good and pay your share. One quarter of all buskers' money went to the "General Need Pot" for food, cleaning or clothing. Another quarter went to the "Pray to God you never need this Money Pot" which was for doctor bills, medicine and death rights. Catalina thanked god that they had only needed it for the first two reasons so far but she would not kid herself. Life on the streets of Paris was tough. 

Catalina shook her head. _How long have I been standing here?_ She hurried inside not even braking stride as she slipped soundlessly around the theater into the dressing rooms. She waved to a friendly dancer and stopped for a moment to listen the show on the massive stage. 

"Hmmm that's new I should see it tomorrow night. " She told the people preparing for their roles. Of course they had no idea she owned 58% of the theater so they just nodded before ignoring her. She didn't care. She hurried into the famous dressing room and down the stairs closing the mirror after herself. Only she knew how to open and close its complex lock. She was the first up to open it in the morning and she closed it either when she got home if she was running late or when the opera started the first act. If someone if someone were late there would be no getting back in until she opened the mirror entrance the next morning. 

It was open everyday except on Sundays when everyone but herself left and were locked out until dinnertime. It was then she practiced and studied. She spent the whole day in between the study and the music rooms caught up in practice and studying the many manuscripts she had found in the master bedroom along with a set of masks. It was then that she realized this truly was the house of the infamous Phantom of the Opera. It had taken her a few Sundays to find the nerve to bring those haunting tunes to life again. She hung the masks on wall of the master bedroom. It wasn't long till she heard a small child, who had had a nightmare, asking it she could sleep with Mother Catling in the Phantom's room after a nightmare. It had taken her aback for a minute but she had accepted the name without a fuss. It was no different from being called Mother Catling or the main hall being called Christine's hall after many of the portraits of her Grandmama moved there from various room around the house.

Catalina was like a whirlwind in the kitchen it only took her half an hour to make and serve dinner with a little help from some of her charges. She sat with the others in the dinning hall along long wooden tables. It had taken the workers a week to put in all the electricity and huge, wired, chandeliers lighted the hall. Catalina had tried to keep the mansion looking like it had. She stood and toasted her great-grandmother, the Phantom and their home in the House upon the Lake as she did every night. As she looked out at all the young faces and glasses raised with hers she felt something open within her, like a light turning on. She these were her heart's family and The House on the Lake was her home. It had been nine years since she was home. The next day her had parent been killed in a freak accident and she had been shipped off to a relative's. She got to stay there for six months before she was shipped off again to a different relative. Never becoming close, never feeling totally at home always pushed away, but not now. 

She smiled and said the traditional closing fraise. "Wind to thy song my children" They answered in well-practiced harmony. "May it soar high with our hearts borne upon its wings." 

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Erik stared into the mist where the boat holding his love and her lover had faded into shadows moving away. His eyes clouded with brokenhearted tears. He sang, his breathtaking voice harsh with broken sobs. 

" I love you Christine…You alone can make my song take flight." A tear fell and ran down his one bare cheek. "It's over now, the music of the night…" He turned and looked up the stairs. There was a light flared to life at the bottom of the steps and started towards him. He blinked the tears from his eyes_. The mob? Who cares…Nothing matters now, without her_…He looked up weary as the light got brighter. Looking down he saw his lost mask. _I should meet my death with dignity_. He thought. It only took him a moment to fasten the mask's ribbons but when he looked up the light was much closer to him and still moving rapidly. _Not a torch, too bright_ …It hit him throwing him backward into the dark water. The light rolled over him pulling and tugging. He cried out as the burning started. The world spun then, thankfully, there was nothing but tender darkness. 

Catalina sat on the side of her giant bed and stared at the letter that had come that afternoon by a courier who looks remarkable like the first one. She had only enjoyed her newly founded joy for a month or three at most before it was shattered. Two years to the hour it had arrived and it blew away Catalina's day's plans a like a leaf in the wind. She couldn't think. How could this be possible? She could believe? _He lived over a hundred years ago but…how could Grandmama bring him here?_

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Dear Catling,

It has been a year, I hope you are ready for my next gift. Remember how you were always asking why Christine, or I_ as you now know, left the Phantom? The answer is I was stupid and scared. I believe that Raoul loved me when all he loved is that he beat Erik. Now I can finally repay that man for all he gave me before I betrayed him. He will return to the time stream near the stairs tomorrow at midnight. I suggest you empty out the house of your "children". _(Catalina could almost see her smiling, which was freaky in itself.). _Yes, I can see the future that much. Trust me, he will come. Take him in; treat his hurts from the travel, from his past... and by me. Show him how the world has changed. The rest is up to you. _

Sincerely,

Christina Daaé

Catalina frowned. _It isn't possible…but had Grandmama ever lied to me?_ She dropped the letter in a drawer and rushed out the door. She called a general meeting in Christine's hall. Standing on top of a table the addressed the puzzled crowd. "My dears I have recently received news that I shall visited by . . . a old family friend…He was . . . is very private and uncomfortable around people. I will be sending all of you to the hotel Pappillon on Rue Catherine. " She smiled ruefully as they groaned. "I know it's an inconvenience but please I just need a month." 

One of the few boys older then her stepped forward. By the cast on his foot they all knew him as the new boy Cameron. " What about us, the ones that are stuck here hurt or sick?" 

Catalina sighed. " You can stay, but you must be carefully. For the rest of you, you must be out by noon tomorrow. I will be available tomorrow morning to help you pack your things. And remembers you guys, look out for each other older children watch out for the young ones like Peggy or Jim. Jenny and the other young ill are staying here." She smiled and hopped down. She finally made it to her room after what seemed like reassuring half of France. She fell onto the bed breathing hard. Soon as her head touched the lush down pillows she was asleep. 

It was just after two when she wiped her brow and waved to the retreating rental bus. She went down stairs ready to face her hardest task. She gathered the remaining young people in the sick children's room so the ill didn't need to get out of bed. She showed them the diary, the letters and the scores she had found. After seeing all that she still had to talk for two hours to get them to believe she was telling the truth. _Who am I convincing, them or myself?_ She thought. She swore all of them to secrecy them she asked for their help. Since Grandmama said he would be hurt, she would need the two boys to help her get him into the house. 

She frowned. "After that I don't want to see any of you near the Phantom bed room or that wing of the house. " She stood brushing imaginary dirt from her skirt. 

She looked at the boys. "Now you two help me strip that wing of anything modern. We want to ease him into our time. Not give him a heart attack." She smiled with a little humor. 

Cameron smiled tightly. "Well as the curse goes 'may you live in interesting times.' Well, lets get to it." 

For the next few hours she spent working and trying not to think of what was going to happen in a few hour. She brought out the first aid cases and laid out the Master room for whatever may happen. She moved in a mini fridge stocked with cold food and hid it in a wardrobe. She didn't know how long she was going to be stuck in this room.

Catalina sat on the shore and threw small rocks onto the ice covering the lake. She watched as they built up on one place then the ice would brake and they would disappear into the frigid waters. She had dressed in a period piece she had found when she moved in. No doubt made for her grandmother, she had never seen the equal to the dresses she had found in the "Bridal chamber." She lay back and looked at the two boys in the wall flame's light. They were clearly nervous, she could only hope they wouldn't bolt when it happened. She blinked. _What has turned me into a believer? Could I be going mad? _

Catalina was almost ready to pronounce herself mad and pack it all in when the time gate opened. A searing light appeared above her on the shore, floated a few feet out over the water and flared. There was a harsh scream, a splash then pitch darkness. She ran into the water braking the thin ice easily. She didn't really feel the cold and was still blinded from the light burst. Catalina was not sure what she would find. It wasn't till the freezing water was up to her waist that she saw the darkness in the darkness. She felt along him and flipped him over. She held his head up out of the water. Catalina gasped as she stared at the famous mask. Behind her Danny had gotten the wall fires going again and they raced up the walls shining light on the man in her arms. She let out a small scream as she realized they were both covered in blood. All his, but she still wavered a bit. She HATED blood. He was covered in long cuts not deep but they crisscrossed down staring by maiming his mask down to what she could see of his legs. It was then that the cold of the iced water hit her. Nearly crippling her. 

He was barely breathing; she had to get him inside. She started to wade to shore backwards pulling him from his shoulders. When she got to about knee depth she stumbled and fell to her knees, only cushioning him in her arms and against her chest at the last second. He skirts weighted a ton with all the water. Cried outs as the sharp rocks dug into her shins. Where were thoughts two lack wits? She whimpered. Was god so cruel to bring her this close to saving her childhood idol, only to kill them both? She hugged the Phantom closer and squeezed her eyes shut crying harsh, scared tears. 

It was all fuzzy for Erik he knew he hurt and it was cold but he didn't feel it. Someone was moving him, it was getting colder. He clung to the protection of oblivion. He knew it would only hurt out there. It felt like someone smacked his mental hands and he heard an older woman's voice scold in a firm tone. "Your not letting this one go too!" The first thing he felt when his senses started to work again was he was falling. He landed safely on something soft. His eyes blinked open at a cry of pain and then weeping. A young woman leaned over him holing him. She was holding him close enough that he could smell the flowery sent of her bodice and her tears dripped on his masked face. Behind her, flame danced then flared. He saw now it was Christine. _She came back…_She seemed to split into two Christines. One older and tired another younger, with darker hair and weeping. The older one glowed for a minute then smiled at him peacefully. 

The same older voice whispered in his mind. _My debt it paid. Fair well Maestro. _Then she was gone. He was left in the cold with the now strange weeping girl. She gasped. He looked up into her eyes. Then above her as the two strangely dressed boys sloshed up behind her. This must be the mob. They looked at him with wide eyes and that was the image he took with him into the darkness. 

He was awake! She stared as many expressions passed over what of his face she could see behind the ruined mask. He looked at her searchingly then behind her then his eyes closed. The boys helped her get him and herself onto the shore. They stopped most of the bleeding while she drained enough water from her many skirts and petticoats so she could walk strait. They didn't say a word but she could see they were very pale. 

Jason and Cameron put the phantom on the stretcher and carried him across the walkway, across the shore, into the house. They lay him on top of the master bed then they disappeared away taking the stretcher with them. It was only a moment before Catalina ran into the room and dropped the petticoats she had stripped off to get up the stairs. She looked him for a moment mentally tallying the things she must do. First she stripped and put on old cutoffs and a T-shirt. 

She would have to be able to move fast in the next few hours. She needed to get him out of his ruined and dangerously cold, wet clothing. She paused for a moment blushing. Then she viscously slashed at her thoughts. _What am I doing? What does modesty matter? I must save his life. Anyway he loves Christine, or hates her…either way I'm her great granddaughter he would never…_ Shaking her head, she carefully knelt on the bed and with a knife cut the wet clothing off. Only after she bound all his wounds did she tuck him naked under a mountain of think covers. She puffed a pillow under his head then noticed his mask had what seemed to be burn mark. 

She shivered. " I don't even want to know…How do I… " She looked up at the wall. Slapping her forehead at her stupidity she took one of the old masks down and sat again by the man she hoped was now sleeping deeply. 

She had read in her great-grandmother's diary of the great horrors of the Phantom's face but that was totally wrong. It wasn't horrid, it was heart braking. One side of his face was fine, even handsome but the other side was like scar tissue stretched to cover his face muscles. She sighed and put the new mask in place. She tied the older mask on and sat beside him fingering the damaged one's ribbons. 

********************************************************************

Catalina was relieved he had finally stopped tossing and turning. She had stood vigil over his bedside through the night. It was only now the fever that had risen so quickly was dying back and he had stopped calling out. 

After a few close calls in the first hour he had seemed to wake a bit. He had stilled and his bleeding had stopped. All there was left to do after that was to wait. Catalina did not like waiting. She had leaned over him to check his temperature when a grip of steel closes over her wrist. She felt herself being pulled none too gently over to him. Catalina gasped as she looked into the searching eyes staring into her soul. Her mind whirled at warp nine. Fear, joy, wonder and the urge to fall in worship for her childhood idol all fought for dominance within her. She pushed down her fright and smiled as lovingly and reassuringly as she could. 

"Qui êtes-vous? " he asked. Erik gazed up through the pain and fever into wide eyes…_So like hers but with so much love_…he thought. _Something happened…Christine! She cam back… no …she brought me here… where? … so pretty…_ His thoughts swirled with no kind of order.

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Grandma Did it! Catalina cheered mentally. She wondered if her Granny was happy now_. I wonder what she meant my last gift from your heart…. oooooohhh_ Finally gets the idea. Realizes he is speaking. Shivers slightly at the deep sensuality of his voice. Her thoughts calmed slightly under the pressures of translation_. French… Qui êtes-vous?… That is Who am I?….no that's not right… Who are you! Who am I? oh, oh yes I remember…_

She spoke softly in French. "I am Catalina, welcome to your second chance." She brushes her lips across his brow then pulled away. Giving him one longing glance ahs stood of the bed. She slipped out of the room after tucking him in seeking out the boys and tell them all was fine and there would be a new foundling in the hall for supper tonight.

Second chance? Erik stared after the girl ignoring a certain fuzzy feeling starting. Laying back he thought of Christine's parting words. _She did come back, she cared_. He remembered the loving look Catalina had given him. Could it be? Turning he looked over to see a familiar music box in the shape of a monkey sitting on a barrel organ. _Second chance, eh old friend?_ … He mused. With a faint smile he drifted back into now peaceful slumber a slight smile passing over his lips.

End

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(I'm Sorry.)


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